


Coffee and Dirt

by keenquing



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keenquing/pseuds/keenquing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Dirt

After they had spent a full week cleaning up in the wake of Gray, wiping memories and making sure that nothing had been left behind besides the inescapable damage to buildings—and tying up the threads that had been so messily unraveled by their own loses—Jack had given Gwen and Ianto the day off. If they would actually _have_ the whole day off was, of course, dependent on the Rift. But Tosh's predictor program indicated that it was fairly likely that things would stay quiet. So, after Ianto had finished making the arrangements for Tosh and Owen's funerals, ensuring that there was no way their families would know that their bodies weren't going to be there, Jack had told them not to come in the next morning.

He should have known Ianto wouldn't listen.

He was in the hothouse, having realized that over the past few days, the plants had been sadly neglected. They'd been Owen's responsibility, for the most part. Jack had tried not to think about that for too long, focusing on making sure that everything was watered and fed. It took him a moment to realize he hadn't laughed when the Xnexblossom nuzzled at his fingers like it always did. _'God, even the plants want to shag him'._ Owen's voice; Tosh's answering laugh, far too loud and clear in his mind.

He wasn't worried when he heard the cog doors opening—Gwen had probably left something behind last night. When he heard the hothouse door open, though, Jack turned and sighed when he saw Ianto.

“I thought I gave you the day off.”

Ianto shrugged, holding up one of the two cups in his hands. “And I thought you'd want your coffee.”

Jack rolled his eyes, walking around the table of plants that stood between them. “All right. But you're going home after this, right?”

Ianto smiled as Jack took the cup. Their fingertips brushed as the handle moved between them. In the back of his mind, Jack realized that it was the first time they'd touched in days. Recent events had taught him that even he could, occasionally, not be in the mood. “I make no promises. Besides, it takes at least two cups to get you going proper.”

In the past, that would have caused Jack to smile. “I'll just take yours, then,” he said, leaning against the table next to Ianto. He felt his eyes roll back a bit as he took his first sip. No matter how bleak things got, nothing could weaken the glory of Ianto's coffee.

Ianto made a noise that, before, might have been laughter. “I'm sure you will—oh, hang on a second.” Jack opened his eyes as Ianto leaned over, his sleeve brushing against Jack's bare back. He set his own mug down on the table, then stood up straight again. “Look at me.”

“Why?” _'My pleasure .' 'I love it when you give orders.'_ Something else usually would have been tacked on there. But Jack's inner flirt seemed to have up and left with Tosh and Owen.

Ianto sighed. “Because red's my colour, all right? Just humour me.”

Jack almost laughed as he turned his head. He realized he hadn't really looked at Ianto lately. That first, horrible night he hadn't let Ianto out of his sight. _I thought we'd lost you._ Ianto's words. But he hadn't seemed to realize just how scared Jack had been that he had been lost. So while they worked, he'd kept watching Ianto out of the corner of his eye. Reassuring himself that the other man was still there. That he wasn't still under Cardiff, imagining all of this in some vain attempt at hanging onto his sanity. But since then he had been too focused on cleaning up Cardiff—at least, that's what he told himself. In all honesty, it had hurt to look. After being reminded so harshly that he would lose all of them much sooner rather than later, it had hurt to look and even more to just _think_ about touching.

He didn't have much choice now, though. No one else was here and the Rift was behaving. And, lord, Ianto did look so good in red.

“Ah—yep. You've got some dirt on your face,” Ianto said. He reached up, placing his hand against the left side of Jack's face. He softly, yet firmly, rubbed at one spot with his thumb. After a few moments, he stopped; fingers curved against the back of Jack's neck and thumb resting against his cheekbone. It felt wonderful. Normal. Right. And that terrified him.

“Thanks,” he said, voice rough. He knew he should do something—but whether he wanted to kiss Ianto or shove him away, he wasn't quite sure. Both, probably.

Luckily, Ianto made the choice for him. He seemed to startle, hand dropping. “No problem,” he said, quickly turning away to grab his cup. “I-I should go, then. Before the Rift changes its mind about me having a day off.”

Jack nodded, lifting his cup again. He kept his eyes closed as Ianto went to the door. But then his footsteps quieted and he must have turned back. “Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“You should take a day off too, you know.”

He didn't deserve the concern he heard in Ianto's voice. He forced himself to open his eyes and look back at Ianto. He most _definitely_ didn't deserve the thing he wanted so desperately—and yet was so very scared of, because he couldn't keep it—that he saw in Ianto's eyes.

But it was impossible to resist. Despite everything, he felt himself smiling. “Tonight—if things stay quiet, I'll come over. Around eight, yeah?”

Ianto's answering smile was all he needed to shove all of those dark thoughts aside—at least for the time being. “Eight. Right. See you.”

“....Thanks for the coffee.”

“Any time.”

Jack stood by the door, sipping his coffee as he watched Ianto walk away. It was only when his left arm started to complain about being bent like that for so long that he realized he'd been touching his cheek.


End file.
